Free Never a Gentleman by Eileen Dreyer Page B

snatch my Grace up before I did.”
    Ignoring the howls of protest, he gave them all an insouciant tip of the hat, wrapped his arm around her, and led her out
     the door. The evening air was cool against Grace’s heated cheeks. The light was softening, so that even the crowded, noisy
     inn yard seemed more elegant. The post-chaise stood a bit off to the side, the door open, a square, balding man in livery
     standing beside it.
    Hours in a coach with Diccan, she thought, her heart once again skittering around. What would he do? What would she say?
    Nothing, evidently. Diccan was accepting saddlebags from a groom, and a saddled horse stood in the shadows. “By the time you
     reach London,” Diccan said, leading her over to the carriage, “I will have arranged everything to your satisfaction. Try and
     rest if you can.”
    “You’re riding?” she asked stupidly, looking up at the lowering sky. “It’s going to rain.”
    His smile was lazy. “Which is why I’m riding. You know how bad the Dover Road is. I can’t afford to get stuck in the mud.
     Biddle will be with you, and he knows the road better than the highwaymen. He’ll make sure you’re comfortable.”
    As long as they weren’t stuck in the mud in the middle of nowhere
, she thought, resentment thickening her chest. With a quick peck on her cheek, Diccan swung into the saddle and rode off,
     leaving her to stand alone in the inn yard, staring after him in stunned silence.

Chapter 5
    B
astún
,” she hissed.
    “That doesn’t sound complimentary at all,” Lady Kate murmured as she came up alongside her.
    Grace sighed. “Your cousin could use some manners, Kate.”
    Lady Kate laughed. “Oh, no, my dear. Manners he has. It’s courage he seems to lack. It’s nice to see that my handsome Diccan
     is as subject to a normal husband’s fidgets as anyone else.”
    “Hmmph.”
    With a lilting laugh, Kate reached up to sweep Grace into an enthusiastic hug. “Oh, but I’m going to miss you, my little colonel.
     Promise you’ll still recognize me when you’re a proper matron.”
    Grace hugged back, suddenly feeling as if she were losing everything familiar. “I won’t be far,” she said. “In fact, I have
     a feeling I’ll be by quite frequently, asking for advice on marriage.”
    “Good Heavens, don’t expect
me
to know.” Wiping hereyes, Kate pushed Grace into the coach. “Now, get along. The sooner you go, the sooner you get there.”
    The door shut, and Grace gave her friend a final wave. It was when the coach lurched into motion that she realized she wasn’t
     alone in the carriage. Diccan’s valet sat opposite her.
    “Oh. Hello,” she greeted the mournful little man. “Biddle, isn’t it?”
    He regally bowed his head. “Indeed. You have no maid, madame?”
    “No. Lady Kate offered hers, but I don’t usually use one.”
    His opinion obvious in the pursing of his lips, he kept his silence. He looked very much like a hound, all jowls and sad eyes,
     even his ears pendulous. Most amazingly, though, Grace realized that his feet didn’t reach the floor. He was probably no taller
     than Lady Kate.
    Grace spent a fruitless hour trying to get to know the dour little man. But no matter what conversational gambit she used,
     Biddle answered with no more than monosyllables. And she didn’t have the courage to ask the question she really wanted answered;
     how in the world the diminutive valet managed to get a jacket over the six-foot two-inch Diccan Hilliard’s shoulders. Did
     he use a stool? Stand on a hatbox? Bounce on Diccan’s bed?
    She must have given herself away, because without looking away from the view out his window, Biddle spoke. “I jump, madame.
     Like a bunny rabbit.”
    Grace was startled into a laugh. “Thank you, Biddle. I’m impressed. Mr. Hilliard’s coats never show a crease.”
    Without looking at her, he rewarded her with a small nod.
    “You don’t approve of Mr. Hilliard’s marriage to me, do you?” Grace